


Afternoon Delights

by HaganeNeko



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Canon - Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, EdxWinry, F/M, Springkink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-17
Updated: 2012-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-29 17:08:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/322181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaganeNeko/pseuds/HaganeNeko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edward has many obsessions, but Winry's apple pie is one of his favorites, especially when Winry is wearing it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Afternoon Delights

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Sexual situations, language, and spoilers for the end of Brotherhood. Also, beta’d by myself, so beware of snafus.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist in any way or form; all rights belong to Hiromu Arakawa, Anniplex, TBS, Viz and Funimation. This work of fiction is for entertainment purposes only; I make no money from it.
> 
> A/N: This fic was meant to be finished a year ago for the winter 2011 springkink prompt: Ed/Winry; “She tastes like apple pie,” due on Feburary 13, 2011. My sincerest apologies to the OP for the excessively long wait.
> 
> This last year I’ve been suffering from both writer’s block and severe pain that has only recently been resolved by surgery. I hope to at least finish my fics that are ‘works in progress’ over this coming year.

 

 

Apple pie had to be Edward Elric’s most favorite food in the entire world. Oh, he did love a good hearty bowl of stew, but was also fond of the savory pasta covered in a rich red sauce he’d tried in Aerugo, and the spicy sausages smothered in earthy mustard and pickled cabbage he’d eaten in the southeastern region of Drachma. Yet, if he had to choose which food was his absolute favorite, it had to be Winry’s apple pie, sweet and warm from the oven, seasoned with just the right amount of cinnamon, and with a crust so tender and flaky that it melted in one’s mouth. 

At the moment it was a point of contention as it perched on the windowsill cooling in the mid-afternoon breeze, its delicious scent beckoning him like a siren’s song as the air currents wafted the wonderfully sweet aroma in his direction. Ed rolled his eyes to peer at the delectable pastry for the umpteenth time in the last fifteen minutes and scowled with frustration; the damn thing was mocking him by simply sitting there and looking so damn tempting, especially when he had been given strict “hands off’ orders. The young man heaved an enormous sigh and settled his chin further into his hand, slumping deeper into the kitchen chair like a petulant child.

The sound of approaching footsteps caught Ed’s attention and turned his head away from the torturous sight and aroma of the pie just as those steps entered the kitchen. Winry swept past him, toward the back porch screen door, laundry basket in hand. A slight shiver ran down his spine, not only from the fragrant draft created by her passage, but from her fixed stare he could almost physically feel trained upon him.

“You can wait until after supper like the rest of us,” came Winry’s sharp reminder, confirming his suspicions that she could read his body language like a book.

“Not even just an itty-bitty taste?” he ventured timidly as he tipped his head back to look at her. Off-hand, he noticed she was wearing a new outfit, one she had purchased during their last trip to Central. The top, a peasant blouse, was clean white with a bit of colorful embroidery around the hem and the elastic neckline. It was also cinched at the waist with more elastic, and it set off her figure very nicely when worn with her denim peddle-pushers. He always liked when she wore these short pants; they were just tight enough to show off her pleasingly round behind.

“NO,” Winry’s firm response cracked and she backed out, pushing the screen door open, “Once you start eating, you won’t quit until the whole thing is gone, Edward.” She pinned him with a no-nonsense glare, “I’d like it if Al and Granny could have some of this pie, unlike the _last_ one I made.” She continued out the door and let it clap shut behind her. “Would you _please_ put some water in the soup pot and put it on the stove to boil?” she called back as she descended the stairs, “And start peeling some potatoes? I’ll be right back after I put this last basket of laundry on the line.”  

Ed mocked his fiancé with a silent raspberry. She had the hearing of a cat and it would do him no good to further irritate her. With a sigh of resignation, Ed heaved himself to his feet and crossed over to the cupboard. A great deal of clanging pans and cursing later, he extracted the soup pot and less than gently set it on the stovetop. As he gathered together the knife and cutting board another gust of air floated through the open window, carrying with it the scent of warm, sweet apples and cinnamon.  

His stomach immediately responded with a thunderous growl and he clutched at the front of his T-shirt.

_Damn it! I’m starving!_

The young man gnashed his teeth in frustration. 

_All I want is one little taste!_

He took out his irritation on the innocent soup pot and slammed it into the sink to start filling it with water. The breeze brought in yet another heady hit of sun-ripened apples baked to perfection to assault his senses and Ed’s stomach lodged another complaint.

_RUMMMBBBLE!_

“Shit!”

When his gaze fell upon the paring knife sitting upon the cutting board, Ed’s mind began to spin its own version of logic: _She can’t fault me for being hungry! If I only take a little bit, she’ll be mad, but not_ that _mad._

He turned off the tap and reached for the knife.

 

*****

 

“There!” Winry proclaimed as she secured the last article of clothing, one of her grandmother’s housedresses, onto the clothesline. The young woman spun on her heel and started back toward the bright yellow house, a spring in her step as she hummed a cheerful tune to herself.  She began to list the immediate chores in her head, eager to tick off each one as they were accomplished.

_Now I can help Ed get supper started. I hope he’s at least peeled some of the potatoes; that would save so much time. It won’t take long to cut up some carrots and onions, but cooking the meat will take the longest. Ed should have the pot of water on to boil by now. Once the meat is stewing, I can go back to work on Mr. Shumacher’s arm, at least until it’s time to put the vegetables in to cook._

She quickly ascended the back stairs and reached for the handle on the screen door, still lost in her thoughts.

_I hope Granny and Al really like my—_ our— _first try at making stew. It’s nice that Ed and I are working on this together. Maybe he really is maturing if he wants to help—_

Her happy thoughts trailed off as she entered the kitchen to find Ed standing at the table with his back to her. “I hope you’re peeling potatoes, Edward. I want to get everything prepped so there’s less to do later.”

Ed’s shoulders hitched up with a jerk as if he’d been caught red-handed and Winry instantly became suspicious when she spied the soup pot still sitting in the sink. “Ed, why isn’t the pot on the stove to heat?! You need to start the water boiling so I can put in the meat!” With less than delicate steps she started toward the stove, only to stop when she noticed the very conspicuous absence of her freshly baked pie from the window ledge. 

“EDWARD ELRIC, YOU _DIDN’T!”_

 

*****

 

Now, Ed wasn’t necessarily a selfish person. Maybe he was a little short-sighted from time to time, and played a little fast and loose with the rules when is suited him, but he wasn’t selfish, nor could he ever be considered weak in body or mind. When it came to Winry’s apple pie, though, he had no resistance whatsoever. As he sat there now, happily munching on a massive wedge of his fiancée’s pie, he had not a care in the world, or at least not until Winry returned from her chore and burst his bubble of contentment.

He had faced down multiple perils in his short lifetime, from human transmutation, to Envy in monstrous form, to facing off with Father on the Promised Day, and never once batted an eyelash. However, when Winry’s wrath was imminent and those big blue eyes flashed with fury, Ed found himself trembling in abject fear for his very life, because it was sure there would be blood flowing, _his_ blood, very soon.

Still, he had to try to defend himself any way he could. 

“I only took one piece! There’s plenty left for everyone to have some later!” He fought not to cringe as Winry advanced upon him and failed miserably, especially when she jabbed a finger in the direction of the half-eaten wedge in his hand.

“That _one piece_ was nearly a fourth of the pie, Edward!” She jabbed a finger at the remainder in the tin, which Ed held in his other hand, “And if I had come back into the house three minutes later, over half the pie would have been gone!” She reached for the tin and Ed instinctively shrunk back, avoiding her grasp.  

“Hey!” he protested with a pout, “Be careful or you’ll make me drop the pie!” He took another step back as she lunged for the dessert once more.

“ _I_ should be the one telling _you_ that, Edward! Hand over the pie, NOW!”

“No way! Once you have it, you’ll clobber me! It’s my only guarantee you won’t pummel me senseless!” Another lunge, more steps backwards. 

“Oh, I won’t hit you!” she growled threateningly, “I have a new way to punish you, one that I know will hurt you far worse than any wrench could!” She was panting with anger now and there was a murderous glint in her eyes. 

Ed made a derogatory sound, “And what could that possibly be? There’s nothing you love more than correcting me with that damn wrench!”

An evil grin tugged at Winry’s lips. “Two simple words, Ed. _NO. SEX!_ For at least a month!”

Ed’s mind instantly reeled. She was right. That would hurt far worse than any wrench to the head ever could.

In that moment of Ed’s stunned shock, Winry made another attempt to recover what was left of the pie. The only problem was, he still had a firm grip on the tin, and it rebounded out of her fingers to fly up and slap him in the chest. Another moment of stupefied surprise followed, only this time it was over the wreckage of the pastry as the smashed pieces slid down Ed’s shirt onto the floor and across his bare toes. 

It was Ed who found his voice first. _“Winry?! What the fuck! Look what you made me do!”_

Winry’s mouth opened soundlessly for a few seconds before her furious retort followed.

“What _I_ made _you_ do?! _You’re_ the one that ruined the pie! If you’d given it to me when I asked you to, this wouldn’t have happened!” She shook her open palms at the mess covering Ed’s chest for emphasis. She sighed in exasperation. “I’m not cleaning up this mess!”

“Well, neither am I!”  


“Oh, yes you are!” She jabbed her fists into her hips and leaned forward for good measure. 

“How are you going to make me? By withholding _sex?_ No, wait, you’re _already_ doing that!” He scowled a challenge as he tossed the empty tin onto the table and swiped at the mess caking his shirt, pushing some of it off. Bits of apple, crust, and juice spattered onto the floor, Winry’s sandals, and her blouse as he shook the sticky mass from his hand.

The mechanic gasped and gaped at the debris staining her new clothing. She had worn her new blouse for the first time today, a very white blouse, and now it was stained beyond repair. “EDWARD!” Furious at being included in the chaos and over the thoughtless ruination of her clothing, she took a handful of the filling and smeared it down the center of Ed’s face, taking particular care to leave a thick layer behind.

The former alchemist’s temper flared white-hot. He swiped at his face to clear his vision, then impulsively reached for the neckline of her blouse and pulled at the elastic. In the next instant, he dumped the half-eaten pie wedge down the opening and let go of the elastic with a ‘ _snap!’_ With a lazy slap between her breasts, the last bit of undamaged pie was crushed against her skin. In a defiant move he was sure he would regret later he jammed his fists onto his hips and thrust his lower lip out at her, defying her to retaliate.

Blue eyes went wide with shock and Winry looked down at the final insult perpetrated upon her new outfit. At first Ed thought she might burst into tears, but realized far too late that those tears were being brought on by fury, not distress. In a move that caught him completely off guard, Winry scooped a fair amount of pie filing from the front of his shirt and promptly pulled at the elastic waistband of his shorts and shoved the handful down into his crotch.

From that moment on it was all out war. Soon, sticky pie filling and bits of crust decorated gold and blonde hair, was smeared over faces and necks, and dropped into clothes. Well into the food fight they grappled with one another, struggling to hold each other’s hands at bay, only to freeze and try to stare one another down. For a short eternity they stood nearly nose-to-nose and glared at each other, panting from their recent exertion, and letting anger get the best of their sensibilities. 

It was in that moment that Ed was struck by just how beautiful Winry was when she was angry; there was something very sexy about her when her eyes were flashing, how she clenched her teeth, how her breathing became deep and labored, and the way she leaned in to invade his personal space. The recent development of her being covered from head to toe with apple pie filing and fragments of crust was now added to his list of sexy things about her. This thought drew Ed’s attention to how the filling left a glaze on her skin, and particularly to a bit of apple clinging to her cheek. She looked good, even covered in apple pie; would she taste as good as she looked?

He followed an urge to lean in and lick the morsel away with a long, slow swipe of his tongue, then at another scrap he noted along her neck, near her pulse point. Ed drew his tongue up her neck and finished by flicking his tongue over her earlobe.

Yes, she did taste as good as she looked. She tasted just like apple pie, all warm and sweet with just the right amount of cinnamon.

He pulled back to find total astonishment expressed on Winry’s face, her eyes huge and round and jaw slack. He offered her a devilish grin as his hands settled onto her upper arms where his thumbs toyed with the elastic neckline.

“You taste really good, Win.”

 

“E-Ed?” Winry finally stammered, “I meant what I s-said.” She swallowed hard and did her best to keep her determined attitude, even when he leaned in long enough to lap at her chin, “No s-sex f-for a month.” She shook a finger at him as she said this, whereupon he took it into his mouth and cleansed it of the sticky juice.

“Who said we were going to have sex?” came his coy reply. He licked at the tip of her nose this time.

“We-we’re not?” she asked in a soft breath, this time sounding very disappointed. She seemed mesmerized by his mouth and hungrily watched him lick his lips clean.

Ed shook his head, causing his long bangs to sway slightly. A bit of filling fell from his chin and onto the top of her breast. He ducked to lick it up and straightened to smile down at her. “I thought I’d help you get cleaned up, and it would be a shame to waste one of your pies.”

Understanding glowed in her eyes. “You’re right. We do need to get cleaned up. Maybe we could help one another.”  Now there was a note of hopeful promise in her voice.

Ed was enjoying this new game of verbal foreplay. “I was thinking the same thing.” He hooked the neckline of her blouse with his thumbs and slipped the fabric down until her buxom chest was exposed. With a careful touch he cradled a breast in each hand then buried his face between them to take a generous taste of the smeared pastry he had deposited there only moments ago. After a quick kiss on each of her nipples, Ed rose up to see a very red face with two blue eyes dark with longing looking back.

“No sex, though, right?” he taunted, twisting her words back on her as he gave her firm flesh a careful squeeze. The congealed apple juice caused his fingers to slip enticingly across her skin, turning the squeeze into a caress.

“Ah…um,” Winry stammered then gave a pleasurable sigh. 

Ed recognized the glazed look in her eyes as rising desire and decided to turn the last screw to close the deal. “That _is_ what you told me, wasn’t it?”

Winry’s jaw flapped soundlessly for a bit before she found her voice once more. “I-I guess we could let it go this one time.” Her gaze tracked his tongue as he licked his lips again.

“You sure ‘bout that?” he taunted, suppressing the satisfied smile that played about his lips.

The hard look returned to her face and she grasped at the front of his shorts. “Edward, I shoved pie down your pants, and I’m offering to _clean you up._ In a way I’m sure you’d like. Do you really want to keep up this charade or do you want to go up to our room?”

The heady sensation of Winry’s fingers massaging the warm, decimated dessert into his crotch and her not so subtle innuendo told him he had won this round. “Don’t have to ask me twice!” Ed announced with exuberance and took his fiancée by the hand. 

The pair wasted no more time making their way out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the second level, giggling with devious joy as they went.

 

*****

 

Al held the screen door for Pinako, allowing the elderly woman to enter the kitchen without needing to put down her basket of produce. They had just arrived home after spending the better part of that afternoon visiting neighboring farms to procure some fresh greens, eggs, and butter. Al had accompanied her, knowing she would need his help carrying everything home. 

“Thanks for helping me, Alphonse,” she remarked as she stepped into the house.

“You’re welcome, Granny,” Al answered, entering the room and allowing the door to close softly behind him.

“What in Sam Hill happened here?”

Al looked up to see Pinako standing near the kitchen table, her fists resting on her hips as she looked down at the floor. “What’s wrong?” he asked, then froze in place as he noticed the mess plastered across the wood planks.

The carnage didn’t end there; bits of what appeared to be piecrust were scattered about, on the near wall, on the tabletop, and across the floor, accented with slices of cooked apples and pools of congealed apple juice. In places, it looked as if someone had walked through it, as evidenced by the smears. The last damning piece of evidence was sitting on top of the table, the now empty pie tin. It took a second before Al was able to piece together what had happened, and when he did his heart sank. It was all too obvious that the apple pie intended for this evening’s meal had been the gruesome victim of a vicious food fight. 

“My pie,” he whimpered piteously.

“Damn crazy kids!” Pinako snapped, “Whatever possessed those two to make such a mess of my kitchen! I’m not cleaning this up, but I know two young people who will, once I find them!”

Al heaved a disheartened sigh and set his armload of groceries on the counter, about the only surface in the kitchen that wasn’t covered in a gooey mess. When he also noticed that the soup pot was still in the sink and empty, Al knew there wouldn’t stew for supper, either. He decided not to point this fact out to his surrogate grandmother, not at all eager to get her even more riled up. It would probably behoove him to look for the errant couple instead and warn them they were in deep trouble.

“I’ll see if I can find them, Granny,” the young alchemist started for the hallway. It also seemed like a prudent idea to get out of her line of sight before she found a reason to decide he had taken part in the creation of the chaos and make him help with the cleanup. 

She cautiously stepped over the debris to approach the stove. “Good! And when you do find them, tell them both to report to me immediately! I have half a mind to turn them both over my knee and give them a good thrashing! They’re never too old to have a switch across their britches! Ah! They didn’t even start supper!” 

“Yes ‘m!”

Al quickly found out that all he had to do was follow the trail of pie remains and it led him to the foot of the stairs. He reasoned they were upstairs getting cleaned up, although it would have made more sense if they had tidied the kitchen first before they had showered and changed. Al tread carefully as he climbed the steps, mindful of the slippery spots, only to stop just short of the landing as strange sounds met his ears from the other end of the upstairs hallway. When the younger brother finally made sense of what they were, he instantly pinked up and wasted no time returning to the kitchen, where he found Granny putting away the groceries. Without stopping to tell her why, he herded her toward the back door.

“Alphonse Elric, what in the hell are you doing!?” the old woman protested as he all but pushed her out onto the porch.

“Let’s go to town and eat, Granny. The walk will do me some good and it’s my treat.”

Pinako wanted none of this and dug her heels in just short of the steps to the back yard. “We need to find those two brats first

“We will Granny, but let’s just go for now. Please?” He forced a grin in an attempt to appease her. “I’m sure they’ll have everything cleaned up when we get back.” 

The old woman considered this for a moment then gave a wry cackle. “I see,” she said, a pensive expression crossing her face before one corner of her mouth turned up. “That girl takes too much after me at that age!” She took the stairs at a pace a woman her age shouldn’t be capable of. “Let’s go, Al! I’m hungry!”

This statement puzzled Al at first, then left him mortified as he realized what she was implying. It would be a long time before he would be able to get the image of _that_ concept out of his head.

_You owe me one, Ed. Big time._

He followed after Pinako, ignoring a particularly boisterous round of laughter from the upstairs window.

_End_


End file.
